Angels get Christmas Cards too.

"I am so glad this is "Angel's Only" business."

Mike wasn't the biggest Angel, nor was he one of the more vocal ones. Like a lot of Angels, Mike rarely interacted with Humans, except at Christmas. At Christmas all the Angels had to deal with Humans. All the Angels looked forward to it too. A chance to see, meet, or help, a soul just beginning the long trek to Angelhood- well, nobody, and I mean nobody, wanted to pass that opportunity up. Not even Quiet Mike.

Humans required a few things from Angels, like this basket Mike was carrying. If Humans were around, it would have to be Gold, glittery, gorgeous. The Human fascination with things, wealth, and status, confused even the brightest of Angels. Humans want "finery", as Mike's favorite Angel Melissa often said. She was right. Angels don't need finery- so the basket Mike was carrying was a simple weave of whicker. What it was filled with was what made it valuable. It was overflowing with Christmas Cards.

Unlike on Earth, Angels get their Christmas Cards a week before. Why? Because Angels don't get gifts, they give them. Each card is from HIM. It tells the Angel where to go, who to interact with, and for how long. Some cards are simple directions: "Stay with Melanie until she heals". Or: "Get Danny to stop being so selfish." Simple directions but not easy to follow. Others are more serious: "You can't cure her cancer. You can give her a few good days." Or: "Let Bruce forgive his father, for his father may never reach out." Angels love those kinds of challenges.

The favorite Cards (for any of the Angels, Mike included) were the "Find Love at Christmas" Cards. Mike was on a streak. Each of the last 16 Christmases - he had gotten a "Find Love at Christmas Card." He was hoping for one again this year. And he got one.

The Heavens were ablaze with chatter. All the Cards had been handed out. Some of the younger Angels were seeking advice from the older wiser ones. Other's were scurrying out to plan how to best deal with the instructions, directions, or situations presented on the Card. A few were somber. Not all gifts are easy to give. Giving a young mother the courage to leave her deadbeat husband, or to release the grief of a man who lost his wife after forty years, are not the easiest gifts to give, for either the giver or the receiver. Important gifts to be sure, but not easy to figure out how to deliver to a Human.

Sometimes, rarely, but often enough to mention, an Angel will have to seek HIM out, and ask for any ideas. HE always had one. Sometimes, HE had to hug the Angel for a while so they could draw enough forgiveness, compassion, and empathy, to deal with what was on the Card.

Mike's Card was one of the very best: Give a New Love to a Lonely Human. According to the Card Mike had full use of all his powers, could perform any miracle short of restoring life, or changing the Future. He could even reveal himself, if he wanted to. That was a boon rarely granted to fulfill your Card. Mike smiled. When Angels Smile, well, a Human heart would be incapable of holding it all in. Even among Angels, when one of them smiles, like Mike did, the nearby angels break into song. The heavenly Choir isn't singing rote songs from charts, they are singing in response to the smiles of other Angels.

If you think their singing is "angelic" you should hear their laughter. A human would burst with joy. Mike was smiling because his Card gave him a lot of leeway, one name, and a week to make it happen. Here is what Mike's Card said: "Mike (HE is very informal most times), I would like you to help out this Human. Her name is Debbie. She is 26 years old. She broke up three years ago with her longtime High School Sweetheart. He told her she could keep the ring. She gave it back to him. She dated off and on, but no one clicked with her. Since September she hasn't been on a single date. She is a "One Man" kind of woman. She is bright, loving, sweet, and she is strong as steel on the inside. But lonely. So lonely I worry for her sometimes. See what you can do. You can use all your Angel Powers except for recovering life, or changing the Future. Good luck!" Mike smiled. Angels Sang. Mike would have to think for a bit. He had a week.

Debbie had no idea why she cut her hair. She didn't cut off a lot, just a few inches off of the ends. Her hair still fell below her shoulder in thick flowing strands that fought the urge to curl- some unsuccessfully. It made her hair seem alive, as if it had places to go, things to do. She liked her hair. She didn't often change her hairstyle, preferring it to be as maintenance free as possible. Just shampoo, condition, and brush. Cutting her hair was a major event and so she decided to treat herself to lunch. She left the Salon with a big smile on her face. She liked what Maurice had done with her hair, especially how he managed to get her bangs to flow in different directions. It gave her a French look. Like she was strolling the shops along the Champs Elysees in Paris and belonged there. She felt sort of French with the Stylish look her hair gave her, so lunch, she decided would be French too.

She went to Lecoucou on Lafayette Street, the food was rustic French cuisine...and within her budget. Plus all the waiter's spoke French. A language she couldn't speak...but loved the sound of. She liked listening as they spoke in French to some customers, or to English Speakers in a French accent. She found both adorable. It was crowded today, only a two top was available near the window. A window where you could look out and see the line of people waiting to get in to the restaurant. The waiter pulled her chair out, offered her a menu, poured some water in her glass , pointed to the cheese and bread on the table and zoomed away- promising to be "right back." A white lie accepted as truth by them both.

She was engrossed in the menu. She had never had Ratatouille before, but she did see the Movie (which she loved) so seeing it posted on the menu made her think about ordering it. But scenes from the movie kept interposing on her musings, making smiles pop out on her face in a series of delightful dimple forming moues. So she didn't hear the tapping on the window...at first. The second round of tapping brought her back to reality. A man in a beret (and that made her smile even broader. 'Who wears a beret of all things?' She thought to herself. The head and face under the beret were well formed, earnest features. She couldn't hear through the window, but the man with the beret was pointing to the empty seat next to her. Then pointing to his watch. Then to himself. It only took Debbie a moment to figure out the semaphore. He was in a hurry. Was that seat taken? If not, could he join her for a quick lunch. It was obvious he just needed the seat so he could get served. Her niceness and Mid-Western roots kicked in from habit. She waved him in, pointing to the seat with a gesture that said: "Please, it is all yours."

The man took off his beret with a sweeping bow of thanks, and scurried to the Maitre'D to inform him he had a table by the window where a woman was waiting to meet him. The Maitre'D had been in New York for more than ten years. He knew the scam, but winked and said: "Follow me to the Ladies Table. You wouldn't happen to know her name...would you?" The bright red color of the man in the beret's neck told him all he needed to know. He smiled. 'Maybe they will talk' thought the Maitre'D, but this is New York City, probably they will hurry through lunch and go their separate ways. We shall see.

Debbie stood as the Maitre'D with the man in the beret in tow, weaved through the lunch crowd to her table. He handed the man in the beret off to her with all the class and charm of anyone raised on the Continent, almost aplomb with class. "Bon appetite!"

Up close, the man in the beret was more interesting. He had warm brown eyes, a quick smile, a sprinkle of freckles across his nose gave hint to a Celtic background somewhere in the family tree. He was a bit taller than Debbie, but not by much. He had an athletic build not a muscle bound one. Lithe is the word that sprang to her mind. His hair was a mahogany brown with red highlights that seemed to fit with both his green eyes, and the dark green of the beret. She was caught off guard during her quick study of her new lunch companion when his accent came across with his greeting: "I am so sorry Mademoiselle for intruding on your lunch. I only have an hour for lunch today, and then meetings, and then I must fly back to Paris tonight. I have had American Food all week, and am afraid I may be allergic to it. I found this place yesterday, but it was too busy. I wanted to see if it was truly French food, or American Food with French Names. Oh, I am so sorry, I didn't even introduce my self. That isn't very nice, n'ect pas? My name is Pierre." "Of course it is." Debbie said with a wink. "Well, really, it is Jean-Pierre, but here in America it seems people like to call me Jean, or Pierre but not both." Debbie smiled again. "Well Jean-Pierre, I am glad you joined me today. I was just trying to figure out what to eat from the menu. I was thinking of having the Ratatouille. You know, because of the movie." This time it was Jean-Pierre who smiled. "J'adore that movie. Eh? Rats that can cook Ratatouille. What could be better?" They shared their first laugh. "Well, should I order it? I mean I don't even know what it is really." "No. You should not order it. (Her face fell) I shall order it for both of us. (Her face leaped back into double dimples) And we shall see if the rats get it right." It was their second laugh in mere minutes.

Mike went into the kitchen to make sure the Chef got the ratatouille perfect. Nobody saw him... Angels aren't visible to the Human eye. Only if the Angel wants to be seen. And Mike did not want to be seen. Jean-Pierre didn't see Mike, or feel his hand turning turning his head to see the empty seat next to the French looking girl inside the restaurant. Nor did Debbie notice her hearing notched up enough to hear the tapping on the glass over the clink, clatter, and verbal clutter of the crowded restaurant. Angels value subtleness over a frontal approach. Mike was pleased. If the ratatouille was good, this could be very promising.

It was good. Better than good. So much so that Jean-Pierre asked to speak to the Chef. Debbie was thrilled at the fluency displayed by the Chef and Jean-Pierre as they spoke in French way too fast for her to follow. It was obvious that the Chef was pleased beyond words. It was also obvious that Jean-Pierre was both serious and complimentary about how good the ratatouille was.

The Chef turned with a nod towards Debbie: "Madame"... a bow to Jean-Pierre : "Monsieur, Merci!" And he was off.

"What did you tell that Chef? He seemed very pleased." "I told him that my Mother would have let him cook for our Family in Provence. That is a high compliment, for everyone knows that a Mom in Provence makes the best ratatouille ever. To be compared to your Mother's cooking...well, it is an honor." And so it went.

An hour went by. Then another. The dessert the Chef brought out himself to the table was the most delightful taste sensation Debbie had ever had. It was called: clafoutis and made her think that Apple Pie would have to become her second favorite pie. At 3 PM, the restaurant closed. At three thirty the Chef brought some wine to the table and chatted with Debbie and Jean-Pierre. At Four PM, Jean-Pierre cancelled his flight back to Paris, called into work and apologized for missing the meetings, and informed his boss that he would be out for a week. The Chef called his wife to let her know that they would have guests for dinner, then they would all go to a French Jazz club down in the Village for some good music, fine wine, and good company. She agreed.

At 5 PM, Jean-Pierre put his beret on top of Debbie's head. Arranged it just so, and said: "You look like the very best of everything French!" Debbie burned with embarrassment and pride. She pirouetted and said: "J'adore me?" "Oui. Beaucoup." She blushed. A moment later, it was their first kiss. As light and tasty as the pastry they had for dessert.

As they walked arm in arm without any particular direction in mind, Jean-Pierre asked Debbie a question: "Have you ever been to Paris for Christmas?" "I have never been to Paris for anything." Jean-Pierre stopped their stroll, turned Debbie to look into her eyes: "Would you go for me?" Debbie squeezed both of Jean-Pierre's arms through his coat. "Yes. Yes, I would." "Magnifique!"

*****

Mike stood behind the photographer taking a picture of Debbie and Jean-Pierre who were standing in front of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. He used just a bit of Angel Power to make a break in the clouds to let the sun shine on the two of them for the photo. He used another little tweak of angel power to keep the two rude teens from making rabbit ears behind the couple. He kept a slew of people away as Jean-Pierre took a knee, pulled out a ring and a promise, and looked up at Debbie.

The Photographer, delighted with the sudden break in the clouds giving him the right lighting to work with, took some of the best pictures he had ever taken. Debbie simply welled up with tears and answered with one of the few French words she knew: "Oui, mon amour." Tourists and locals clapped and cheered. Debbie and Jean-Pierre hugged and Cried.

Mike flew home with his Card Completed.

Merry Christmas.